


Baptism By

by Leanansidhe363



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leanansidhe363/pseuds/Leanansidhe363
Summary: 11.18 -Hell's Angel coda that went slightly off the rails.





	Baptism By

Here they were again. Castiel in a ring of holy fire that had been laid by Dean's own desperate hands. Tell me you're not working with Crowley, man, tell me you're not letting Lucifer wear you like a prom dress.   
  
Tell me you didn't choose a monster over me.   
  
Again.   
  
Cas's lips parted but the voice that came out, higher and lighter and tinged with sardonic amusement, was nothing like the angel Dean knew.   
  
It was the devil's voice and the devil's words and the devil's dark, sarcastic cheer.   
  
Cas, we can fix this.   
(Dean, it's not broken.)  
  
Only it was. It was now and it had been then. Rowena cast the spell and Dean saw Cas inside his skin and he begged, threw himself on the alter of dignity and begged for Cas to cast Lucifer out of his skin.  
  
"Cas! Cas!"  
"CAS!" It was a mockery, a whining cry that hit Dean as sharply as if he'd been slapped.   
  
Castiel was never supposed to sound like that. Castiel was the rebel angel, the badass superhero with a trench coat and a holy sword and a sensible shoe to plant in a demonic ass.   
  
No, Dean grit his teeth and refused to give up on his friend, refused to let the devil win.   
  
This sonofabitch had taken everything from him. Lucifer had been in the shadows of Dean's entire life. His mother's death, his father's deal, Sam's death, Dean's time in the Pit, and all the friends he had lost during their war against the Apocalypse. All of it was at the hands or orders of the Fallen winged dick.   
He was not getting Cas, too.   
  
Cas had to fight. He had to reach down deep and find that terrifying force of nature that had invaded Dean's dreams to look him right in the eye and say, 'I dragged you out of hell, I can throw you back in' with cerulean blue eyes blazing in the low light of Bobby's kitchen.   
  
Cas had to be the angel who had shoved a bolt of lightening up Alastair's ass and then deadpanned a quip about heaven.   
He had to be the angel who had cast sly eyes to Dean as he told the hunter how to save his brother.   
  
Cas had to dig down past almost ten years of human corruption to the creature he'd been before he had first laid a hand on Dean in hell (and was lost).  
  
Dean would never beg Lucifer. Would never give that evil bastard the satisfaction.  But he would beg Castiel. He'd make any deal it took, spend the rest of eternity under Alastair's skilled knife if it meant he could look at the face of the man who had been Jimmy Novak and see Cas.  
  
He didn't care what Lucifer might have seen in his face, it wasn't for him. It was for Cas. It was for any semblance of a chance that Castiel could see or hear him, he'd lay it all bare; every hurt and fear and hope. The unnamed, unexplored weight in the middle of his chest that expanded and contracted like breathing whenever Cas was ignoring his personal space, the tether (the more profound bond) that tied tight around Dean's guts and bound him inexorably to the angel.   
  
Come on, man, don't make me lose you too.  
  
Cas please, it's me. We need you. I need you.   
  
Cas, we can fix this.   
(Dean, it's not broken)   
  
Don't ever change.   
  
The spell was failing and Lucifer was twisting Jimmy's handsome features into an expression Cas (nor probably Jimmy) had ever worn. An expression of cruel contempt and sick satisfaction at whatever horrible things he planned to do to his prisoner's pet humans.   
  
But he didn't.    
  
Instead he stopped and cocked his head in a gesture so exactly like Cas that Dean almost, almost, almost dared to hope.   
  
"Oh." Was what the creature that might be evil or might be Cas said. And then the devil laughed. He laughed and it hurt to hear because it was mocking and nothing like Castiel's soft, reserved laughter. The angel's mirth was precious for its rarity, and it's sincerity. 

  
"Oh!" He hollered in a tenor opposite of Cas's rumbling, crackling baritone. He showed Dean teeth in a wide, jolly grin.

  
He stepped over the smoldering remains of the nearly extinguished holy flames and batted away the red smoke of Crowley's demonic essence as the King of Hell tried and failed to reach into the over packed vessel and pull the angel to the surface. He sidled up into the hunter's personal space, and tilted his head down. He met his eyes and said in that velvet smooth, rumbling, aged-in-a-barrell angelic voice, "Dean."   
  
Dean knew it wasn't Cas, not really. Cas had been disoriented and weak a moment ago when the spell had forced him to the surface. But the imitation was so flawless that Dean felt that tether in his guts pull taught.   
  
The devil said his name again and this time it was lower and longer and it was so damn close that it slid over the hunter's lips, and it was all he could do not to lose his mind at the pain of it. At the aching loss.

  
Because Dean knew that Lucifer knew. He understood.   
  
Dean had been so desperate to get Cas to see him that he forgot who and what he'd been laying himself bare for.   
  
The devil knew.   
  
"Those who strive to touch the stars, Dean..." It was said softly. Dean didn't dare look over at Sam, he didn't want to know what expression might be on his brother's face.   
  
The devil reached out a familiar hand and tore the whole left sleeve off the hunter's shirt, exposing his bare arm from the shoulder down.

  
He kept Dean pinned with his eyes as he slid his hand up the hunter's arm and slotted fingers over the handprint scar that Castiel had seared into Dean's flesh.   
  
I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.    
  
Good things do happen.   
  
You don't think you deserve to be saved.   
  
I did it, all of it, for you.   
  
Dean didn't dare to breathe, didn't dare to blink. Those damned blue eyes, eyes that didn't have his angel behind them but was a close enough imitation to make the hunter's heart stutter as they kept locked on his.   
  
"Cas," his throat is tight and his voice ragged with emotions that he had never dared name out loud, " Cas, fight him. You gotta kick him out, man, please."   
  
The scar on his arm, the place where Lucifer touched with Castiel's fingers, burned cold and viciously painful. It was an intrusion, a perversion, for Lucifer to touch that mark.   
  
"The infamous rebel angel and Michael's meat suit." Lucifer smirked, "that's disturbed." He slotted his stolen hand to an exact fit over Dean's scar and the pain of it just about whited Dean's vision.  
  
Cas, man, please. I need you here.   
  
I prayed to you. Every night.   
  
Lemme bottom line it for you; I'm not leaving here without you.   
  
I'd rather have you, cursed or not.   
  
Cas, we can fix this  
(Dean, it's not broken)   
  
Sam screamed for him and he barely heard it. Amara came for the devil and Dean barely saw her.   
  
He stood with his eyes locked to a blue gaze that knew too much and felt too little and the angel's name was all he could say.   
  
"Cas..."   
  
Cas, buddy, I need you.   
  
I'm not leaving here without you.   
  
Don't make me lose you, too.   
  
Cas, we can fix this  
(Dean, it's not broken)  



End file.
